I hope you are enjoying a holiday.
Since today is Christmas, I thought I'd share some images of the most Christmas-like object I own:
Yes, I've been doing some work on the Mercian King of Mercia I bought a few weeks ago. For one thing, the sew-up wheels are gone: I actually sold them on Craigslist. In their place are a set of wheels with classic Campagnolo Record hubs with modern Mavic rims and DT spokes:
One reason I decided to use those hubs is that the rear one allowed me to employ an old trick:
The rear dropouts are spaced for 126 mm, as were most road bikes of the KoM's era (1984). I rearranged the spacing on it so that both sides are even. The good news is that I have a wheel with no dish. The bad (depending on your point of view) news is that the right side spacing will allow me to use only 5-speed or Ultra (narrow)-6 freewheels---which is what I'd planned to use anyway.
And it allowed me to use the lightweight Open Pro rim. It's actually a very strong rim for its weight, as Mavic rims tend to be. Also, for a rim as narrow as it is, it can accommodate fairly wide tires--like the 700X32 C Paselas that adorn them now.
Probably the next most-significant change I made was in the derailleurs. Getting a Rally derailleur was nice, but I actually like this one better:
I saw more than a few otherwise-all-Campy bikes equipped with Cyclone derailleurs from the mid-'70's to the mid-80's, so I don't feel as if I'm committing some sort of sacrilege. With that change, I also swapped out the Campy shifters for ratcheted SunTour levers.
One more Campy part went from this bike to my parts box: the pedals. They don't seem to have been ridden much at all, so I wrapped them carefully and am saving them for "future reference." The MKS platform pedals--my current favorites--bear enough resemblance to classic platform pedals like the Lyotard Berthet (#23) or the ones SR made that they don't look out of place on this bike.
The fellow who bought the sew-up wheels also took the deep-drop Cinelli bars that came with the bike. (What such deep drops--or sew-ups--were doing on a touring bike, I'll never know.) And I sold the stem--which had too long of an extension--on eBay. In their place, I installed another favorite--Nitto Noodle bars with an NP (formerly Pearl) stem. The Noodles bear enough resemblance to randonneur -style bars that I can justify (to myself, anyway) them on a bike like this.
If you saw my original post about this bike, you probably noticed three other changes:
The brake cable housings were cracked. I like to replace cables on secondhand bikes anyway. As luck would have it, I found these gold braided housings on eBay.
And I had to remove the leather sleeves that were stitched on to the handlebars in order to remove the brake levers. Perhaps I will re-stitch them onto the new bars some day, but for now, I wrapped them with Tressostar brown and green cloth tape. I also replaced the original Campagnolo gum rubber hoods, which were dried and cracks, with new items from Rustines.
Finally, I replaced the Avocet saddle with--what else?--a Brooks Professional.
This will give you a taste of things to come:
This bell bracket came from Velo Orange and will sport one of those lovely brass Japanese ringers. And, of course, I will add bottle cages, a pump and a front rack for a bag.
Funny, isn't it, that a bike--which can be ridden all year round--can look as much like a Christmas ornament as anything that's hung on a Fraser fir.
Blame Phillip Cowan. And Coline. And Leo.
I swear, they nudged me into it. Yes, even though Phillip is in another part of my country--and Coline and Leo are in faraway foreign lands--they completely short-circuited my self-discipline. Really, they did. You know, they used powers that, in most circumstances, I deny believing in (sort of like a lot of conspiracy theories). In the end, I simply couldn't stick to a promise I made myself.
And I've waited a couple of weeks to tell you about it, dear readers, because, well, I don't want to show how weak and vulnerable and suggestible I am. I know, I don't have to pretend to be a Gary Cooper-type macho-guy anymore. (As if I ever did!) Even when I end up loving what I'm pushed or cajoled into doing, it pains me to admit it!
So what am I talking about? First, I'll mention the promise I made: After Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special came into my life, I swore I wasn't going to buy another bike. Of course, we all know that such a pledge from a bike enthusiast is about as credible as anything a politician says when running for office.
And into what trepidation and turpitude did this ruptured oath lead me? Well, instead of describing it, I'll show you the evidence of it:
Yes, I bought the Mercian-painted-like-a-Motobecane I sort of mocked in a post last month. Really, if Phillip, Coline and Leo hadn't egged me on in their comments, I never, ever would have done such a thing.
Riiiiight, you say. You believe that like you believe a single bullet killed JFK--or anything in the 9/11 Commission Report.
All right, I'll admit it: I wanted that bike. These days, I shy away from bikes in any combination of black and red because it's so common on new bikes--and done with none of the style of those old Motobecanes. Or this Mercian.
I finally bought the bike two weeks after that post, after the price dropped a couple of times. So what did I get?
Well, it's a King of Mercia built with Reynolds 531 throughout (of course) in 1973. Somewhere along the way, it was repainted (originally, it was all red), which is why the Reynolds 531 decals aren't from that period.
But almost everything else on the bike is: Check out the 1973 Campagnolo Nuovo Record gruppo. I love the crank and large flange hubs--with the old-style flat-lever skewers. And the shifters--with Campy lever covers!
Then there's--what else?--a Brooks Professional saddle. And the Cinelli bars and stem. The only non-period parts are the rims, spokes, tires, freewheel and chain.
I am guessing that the bike originally had sew-up tires and rims, and someone rebuilt those wheels with Mavic Open Pro rims and DT spokes. Of course, Mavic OP is my go-to rim for high-end wheels, and in silver it looks like a classic rim. Hey, the wheels even have 36 spokes. The bike was shipped with cheapo tires, one of which was worn. I replaced them with Continental Grand Prix 4 Season tires--another favorite.
I also would imagine that the drivetrain originally included a Regina freewheel and chain, which were standard on Campagnolo-equipped machines. (Some Italian bikes came with Caimi/Everest.) The freewheel I received, however, was a SunTour ProCompe and a chain whose provenance I couldn't determine. That wasn't a problem: I replaced them with a SunTour New Winner freewheel (5 speed, 13-26) and a Sedisport chain. I replaced the two small cogs on the ProCompe and will most likely use it on my Trek.
I've ridden the bike only twice, and am astounded at how similar it is to Dee-Lilah: very quick, smooth and stable. The only other change I plan on making is a stem (Cinelli, of course) with a slightly longer extension--and to replace the Cycle Pro toe clips (pockmarked with rust) with a pair of Christophes.
The bike was shipped to Bicycle Habitat, and Hal assembled it. Of course, he took it for a ride. When he called to tell me the bike was ready, he exclaimed, "You're really gonna like it!" He's right.
I'm so lucky: Dee-Lilah, and now this bike! But they are going to have different roles: Dee-Lilah is a modern/classic or classic/modern bike, depending on how you look at it (Reynolds 853 tubing with fancy lugs, traditionally constructed, kitted with modern components--and a Brooks Pro.) On the other hand, if I do L'eroica--or any other event for vintage bikes--you know what I'll ride.
(P.S. I have a handlebar bottle cage which I believe to be a Specialites TA. If it isn't, it sure looks like one. I might put it on this bike--if I can find some clamps for it.)
Mention "Brooks saddles" to most cyclists, and the first model that comes to their minds is likely to be either the B17 or the Professional. The former, as Brooks proudly states in its catalogues, has been in continuous production--almost unchanged--since 1898. Very few bicycle products--indeed, very few products other than, say, foods made by secret family recipes-- have been made for longer. A narrower version appeared after World War I and has been in production ever since. The Professional evolved from the B17 during the 1960s.
Other familiar models from the venerable saddle-maker include the B66, a sprung, double-railed model made since 1927, and the B67, which is a B66 made to fit modern seatposts with integrated clamps. (The B66 comes with its own clamp, which fits only on plain-tube seat posts.) Similar in size and shape to the B66 and B67, the B72 replaces the straight rails and coiled springs of the "sister" models with rails that loop at the rear. The B72--the saddle that came with many English three-speeds--offers a somewhat cushier ride than a B17 but not quite as boingy as the B66 or B67.
Other Brooks saddles have remained in production for decades and have loyal followings. They include the Swallow and Swift. The latter looks like a refinement of the narrow version of the B17, while the Swallow, with its cut-away sides, can be seen as a minimalist version of the Professional. It was popular with track riders until lighter saddles with plastic bases were developed during the 1960's.
Then there are the super-heavy duty saddles one still sees on utility bikes all over the world. An example is the B33, with its triple rails, rear coiled springs and front coils. If you are installing one on your bike, just be careful not to drop it on your foot or your cycling season might be cut short!
Anyway, other Brooks models have been produced for a long time--or have been reintroduced-- and have their loyal riders. Examples include the Flyer, introduced in 1927, and the stylish Colt--which, as the Brooks website slyly notes, was " first produced in 1979" but "discontinued amidst mysterious circumstances a few years ago". Mysterious circumstances? Hmm...was it "disappeared" by the MI6 during a covert operation in the Middle East?
Today, as I was browsing eBay, I came across a "forgotten" Brooks saddle: the B68.
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| Brooks B68 |
I couldn't find information about its production history. But I know that it had a leather top of the same dimensions as the B66, B67 and B72. However, it did not have the coiled springs of the B66 or B67, or the looped rail of the B72. Instead, it had the straight rails found on the B17, Professional and other road saddles.
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| Brooks 68, side view |
That last attribute might be the reason why it was discontinued. From what I've noticed, most cyclists who want wide saddles like the B66, 67 or 72 want springs or some other kind of shock absorption. And those who want cushy saddles aren't likely to look at any stretched-leather saddle. On the other hand, if you ride a B17 or Professional (I ride bikes with both)--let alone a Swift or Swallow--you would probably find the B68 too wide.
That left the B68 with a market that's, at most, a niche: People who ride in an upright position but don't want or need anything to soften the blows meted out by broken pavement and rocky trails. Interestingly enough, it might have been a good saddle for fat-tire bikes. With so much rubber between the bike and the road or trail, it's hard to imagine that a rider would need any additional cushioning from a saddle or any other part of the bike. I could also imagine a B68 on a bike like the Surly Long Haul Trucker, particularly if it is set up with handlebars like the Nitto Bosco or the Velo Orange Left Bank.
I can recall having seen only a couple of B68 saddles. But, from what I've read, the relative few who rode them loved them. Perhaps Brooks will hear from those riders and the B68 will no longer be the "forgotten" Brooks saddle.
I've been back to riding regularly, more or less, for nearly two months. It feels really, really good: I'm starting to overcome how little riding I did this winter, and my age.
It's a good thing I'm back in the saddle most days. You see, being the old-time mechanic I am, when I'm not riding I work on my bikes. Now, there's some maintenance I normally do during the winter: I usually replace my cables and chains. Sometimes I install tires, brake pads, cogs and handlebar tape. More rarely, I'll put on other new parts or accessories, depending on how badly they're worn.
But this past winter I went "above and beyond" what I needed to do. You see, I changed the looks of my bikes a bit.
Here is Arielle, my Mercian Audax, with her "makeover" that she didn't need, if I do say so myself:
After Ely of Ruth Works made those bags for me, I had a feeling that they would look even better with a Brooks honey saddle and handlebar tape. I asked Ely; he encouraged me and assured me that (in his opinion, anyway), it would look fine with the paint, whether it was showing its purple or green side. (It's Mercian's #57 "flip flop" finish.)
I was fortunate to find this slightly-ridden "pre-softened" Brooks Professional--with copper-plated rails--for $100. Apparently, it was made during the time Sturmey-Archer owned Brooks. At least, the style of the nameplate on the rear (which I like a lot on this saddle) would indicate as much.
Tosca got a similar revamp, except that she got a current Brooks Professional. Somehow I don't think it's that much, if at all, stiffer than the "pre-softened" saddle was when it came out of the box.
Somehow I get the feeling the bikes, the leather and canvas are going to grow old together nicely. I could say the same for Vera, my green Miss Mercian mixte:
The saddle is a B17 and I used one roll of tape on the handlebars. The front bag on this bike--and the British Racing Green paint--seemed to call out for the honey leather even more than my other bikes did.
And, no I didn't leave Helene--my other Miss Mercian--out. I'll have some shots of her soon.
The other day, I wrote about my Peugeot U0-8, which became my first "fixie." Now I'm going to write about another Peugeot I owned, which I didn't alter nearly as drastically.
When I bought my Schwinn Continental, I saw a Peugeot PX-10 in the shop. I looked at its price tag: $250 seemed like sheer insanity for a bike to someone who'd saved the $96 cost of the Schwinn from a year of delivering newspapers in the hinterlands of New Jersey.
Somehow, though, I knew I was going to end up with that bike. As I wheeled my Continental out of the showroom of Michael's Bicycle Company (located next to a drive-in theater on Route 35 in Hazlet, NJ), I could feel the bike bug embedding its tentacles into my shins.
Well, about three years later, I got a PX-10 for $250--used. And it was three years older than the one I saw in the showroom.
It seems that almost everyone who came of age during the '70's Bike Boom rode a PX-10 at some point or another. For many of us, it was our first real racing bike: Bernard Thevenet won the 1975 and 1977 Tours de France on PX-10s that differed from the ones we bought only in that the stems and handlebars were changed to fit his physique.
Also, the great Eddy Merckx began his professional career astride a PX-10 for the BP-Peugeot team in the mid-1960's.
Although $250 seemed like a lot of money for a bike in 1972 (and was probably even more so in 1969, when the PX-10 I bought was built), it was actually quite a good value. First of all, the frame was built from Reynolds 531 tubing with Nervex lugs. While the level of finesse in the lugwork and paint wasn't up to what one would find on a bike from a French constructeur or a classic British builder, it was nothing to be ashamed of.
The chainstays, clearances and fork rake were all considerably longer than what would be found on later racing bikes. However, racing bikes at that time had to be more versatile, as roads, particularly in small towns and rural areas of Europe, were rougher: Some still hadn't been repaired after the bombings and shellings of World War II. Also, racers and trainers at the time believed that a rider should spend as much time as possible on the bike he plans to use in upcoming races. They also believed that, at least for road racing, outdoor training was superior to indoor, so the bikes were ridden all year long. They--yes, even Merckx himself--rode with fenders and wider tires during the winter.
The longer geometry and rather thin stays meant that while the frame gave a lively ride, it could be "whippy," especially for a heavy rider, in the rear. The flip-side of that, of course, was that the PX-10 gave a stable and comfortable ride in a variety of conditions. This is one reason why many PX-10s were re-purposed as light touring bikes, or even outfitted (as Sheldon Brown's was) with an internally-geared hub and used for commuting.
The components that came with the bike were not top-shelf, but were at least good for their time. The best of them, aside from the Brooks Professional saddle (Yes, it was original equipment on mine, though some PX-10s came with Ideale 90 saddles.) was probably the Stronglight 93 (63 on some earlier models) crankset. It was beautifully polished and could be outfitted with chainrings from 37 to 57 teeth. Mine came with 45 and 52, like most PX-10s of the era. The 93 was a light, stiff crankset: When I later got a Campagnolo Record for another bike, I couldn't detect any difference in rigidity. The only problem with the 93 or 63 was that it had a proprietary bolt circle diameter that wasn't compatible with Campagnolo or other high-end cranksets of the time. These days, if you need to replace a chainring on your 93 or 63, you have to go to a swap meet--or eBay.
The wheels were also of very good quality: Normandy Luxe Competition hubs with Mavic tubular rims (Some PX-10s came with Super Champion tubulars, which were equal in quality.) laced with Robergel spokes, the best available at the time. Of course, I would build another set of wheels--clinchers--on which I would do the majority of my riding.
I rode many happy hours and kilometers (Hey, it was a French bike!) on my PX-10. Like many other cyclists, I "graduated" to a more modern racing bike, and a touring bike and sold the PX-10. Still, it holds a special place in my cycling life as my first high-performance bike.
